


Social Graces

by KKGlinka



Category: Batman (Comics), Catwoman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-17
Updated: 2007-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KKGlinka/pseuds/KKGlinka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Earth 2, Selina Kyle had the perfect life, so long as she was perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Graces

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** Earth 2, Pre-COIE, DC Superstars #17

They took her clothes, her purse and her hair. They assigned her a number and a small shared room, with bars for a door, and no window. Selina had been in and out of prison several times by that point, but it had always been with the knowledge a few loyal members of her crew would help her break out in a few weeks while the paperwork was being filed. This stay would be longer and the paperwork had been done weeks ago. Still, the guards usually went easy on women, and this orchestrated affair was due process. It had been her choice. Once she finished jumping through the hoops, she would be off the hook. The door echoed the gavel as it shut. 

It wouldn't be so bad, she reminded herself a month later, not quite forgotten in solitary. 

One day, they told her it had been several years and she was to leave, on account of good behavior. She heard a guard mutter something about special interests, rich brats and lined pockets. She kept a blank face as he escorted her, walked when he told her to, turned when he told her to, and held a small box he dropped unceremoniously into her arms. She stared at the contents. There were clothes, a purse and shoes. 

The sun was piercing in the mid-afternoon and Selina shielded her eyes, scanning the curb. Thick walls and several layers of chain link fence, topped by razor wire guarded her back. Like most prisons, this one was isolated, away from the city, in no one's back yard. She searched for visual clues, replaying the number the warden had told her. It was meaningless and her hands were sweating. 

She saw the white porsche, rounded fenders, silver gilt. An elderly man sat behind the wheel, a pointed cap set on his head. He craned back in the car, waving his arm, the rest obstructed by tinted windows. A moment later, before the chauffeur could act, the back door sprang open and Bruce stepped out. He held out his arms. 

Selina wiped her palms against her skirt. She couldn't see any other cars. She had no money. No one from her crew had ever come. She didn't know where her limited past acquaintances lived or what their phone numbers were, if they had any. There wasn't any place she needed to be and Bruce started walking toward her. He seemed impatient, so she smiled and went to him. Surely it meant something that he had bribed the parole committee. 

* * *

Bruce had a long time to prepare, which only took a minor effort, all things considered, in between being Batman and the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. Now that Selina had finally seen the error of being a themed criminal, Catwoman was one less concern for Batman. There would never be that day she escalated from casual theft and easy-to-escape traps to accidental manslaughter. Or deliberate. She would never become a true maniac or sociopath like the others. Still, there was no point gambling when the odds could be increased in his favor. 

It only took nineteen days for him to locate, debilitate or imprison her current and past gang members, strip her favorite 'lairs' - as she liked to term them - and disassemble that garish car. Temptations out of sight would be out of mind. Besides, she herself had renounced Catwoman, so he was merely helping with the grunt work. 

So he frowned the day he found a neatly hung Catwoman costume in their shared bedroom wardrobe. After brief consideration, he calculated Selina was several rooms and a floor away, and yanked the costume off the hanger. Folding it neatly, he removed it from sight. That evening, Selina started to ask him about it, but he smiled, cutting off the unnecessary protest. He reminded her that their marriage was her chance to make a fresh start and make something of her life, not wallow in past mistakes. 

Selina studied her pot roast, red cabbage and sauteed potatoes, without replying. A few methodical bites in, she smiled and agreed, laughing softly at herself. 

Bruce chewed his roast, then pushed the rest aside. It had over-dried and the potatoes were salty. Alfred was as loyal as ever, bless his soul, but he was old. It might be time to hire additional help, perhaps a dedicated cook. He wondered why Selina didn't say anything about the food. He would need to, then. A poor diet would lead to cumulative fatigue, not something he could safely tolerate with his nightly work. 

* * *

Bruce asked, in a concerned tone, to call him if she wouldn't be back by two in the afternoon. He asked how much money she would need, which she stated. He nodded somberly, and called for Alfred to chauffeur her. The old man looked tired so she suggested taking one of the regular cars. Bruce looked pained, shaking his head curtly. It would be more proper for her to be escorted. The important thing is that she remember to call him. If she'll be late. If she'll be changing the shopping order. If she adds a stop. There are people who would use her to get to him, the wealthiest man in Gotham. 

He needs to know so she will be safe. She kept agreeing, trying to sidle out of the room, until the phrase 'yes, dear' slipped out of her mouth. She blinked, confused, remembering a different man, years ago in what seems like a past life. She shook off the notion, a mental wandering and tendency for woolgathering she had acquired in prison. That was all. She was over-reacting. It was perfectly reasonable that her husband would be concerned, when the entire city knew his wife was a former career villain. 

* * *

She had forgotten what it was like, to be admired by the curious and envious. Selina smiled broadly at the loose crowd gossiping around her, at the latest Wayne charity event. It was nice to have money and to know it wouldn't be snatched from her grasp. There was a live orchestra playing at the opposing end of the ballroom. It reminded her of old times, a smooth dance caught here and there, surrounded by the filthy rich. She couldn't help but identify past targets, the most selfish and self-indulgent of the set. Her eyes lingered on a diamond necklace, that blended in with the refractions from a room full of glass, jewels, gold, silver, sequins and masquerading paste. 

A strong hand fell on her shoulder, Bruce poking his head around her head to whisper, not too softly, "Eyes off the merchandise, Selina." He grinned widely and held her eyes. 

She could hear muffled chuckles from the nearest listeners, and smiled stiffly. "Oh, don't be daft." She backed away a few steps, swirling away in a ruffle of custom tailored, imported fabric. "I'm going to get some champagne." She heard a member of the crowd interject something about 'a damn fine catch' and 'making that ball'n'chain work for him, eh?'. In her peripheral vision, she saw the middle-aged man pat Bruce on the shoulder. 

* * *

It was nearly five in the morning when Bruce finally trudged up the main stairwell, for a nap before work, again. There hadn't been any major crimes that evening, but rather, a string of tedious routine muggings, petty larceny and drug deals. For all the time spent tracking, running and briefly fighting, he remained coiled with tension. There hadn't been anything upon which to truly focus, so the swirl of purple fabric caught his attention immediately. 

He dropped into a low, crouching walk, inadvertently smiling as he felt his pulse jump. There was a glimpse of black boot, positively serendipitous. Bruce ducked in low, behind Selina, swooping up to startle her. She gasped and lunged into a bureau, which wasn't his intention. Then he realized she wasn't wearing a costume. It was a purple dress and black boots, a loose silk blouse. There was no mask, cape and high cut dress; the costume had been in his imagination. Indeed, it was an impossibility. Selina was dressed for the day, not waiting for him. 

She slouched against the bureau, holding a hand to her forehead. "Bruce, what in the world...." 

"Sorry," he tried to sound contrite past his smirk, and stalled. "Couldn't sleep?" The fatigue of the night began to settle on him, again. He shook it off, mentally. 

"Just a restless night." 

"Still restless?" He stepped forward, putting a hand on either side of, against the bureau. There was no sense in wasting a perfectly good opportunity. 

She blinked at him, as if confused, then glanced down, "Ah. Well, I was going to... that is..." 

"I'm sure it can wait." 

* * *

Selina smiled a bit, watching Helena tag along after her father, grabbing occasionally at the hem of his jacket. The girl jumped in front of him, throwing her arms out and announced that now he couldn't go. Bruce leaned down, grabbed her under the armpits and slung her across his shoulders. Helena shrieked, laughing at him, and pointed into the living room. Bruce had been teaching her to play chess. It was to keep her entirely too inquisitive mind off trying to guess what her daddy did at night. 

They had both put off answering that question, neither expecting it so soon. Selina considered telling Bruce about the night she caught the girl peeking around the doorjamb shortly after he left one evening. She wanted to do everything he did, like any adoring daughter. She might actually try. Selina chided the girl, who sighed in exasperated disgust, and declared going to bed 'boring'. Selina had a few tricks of her she could teach - but then she noticed Bruce watching her narrowly from the other side of the dining room, Helena secure in his grasp. 

Ace, the aging German Shepherd, raised his head off his paws, wagging his tail. Selina leaned out of her chair to pet his head. His fur is short and wiry, nothing like a cat's, and the dog slobbered on her hand, in response. 

* * *

Helena knew she was supposed to be sleeping, but she could hear her parents arguing. They were trying to whisper, but sometimes forget, which made a pattern of soft, then sudden and loud sounds. She crept down the hallway, avoiding the two squeaky spots she learned about when following daddy. The arguing stopped all of the sudden, so she scampered the last few steps. She saw daddy holding mommy's arm in between them. He was leaning forward and looked angry. Her mother was turned away a bit and frowning. She looked sad and Helena could see she was trying to twist her arm free. 

"Daddy, what are you doing? Are you fighting?" 

He let go of her mother's arm and jumped back, surprised. He looked around quickly for a moment, then pursed his lips and made the same face Dick did when he was going to say a big fat lie. Except, daddy looked serious and didn't sound silly when he said they were just talking. He held out his hand, saying she needed to go back to bed because it was late. Helena grasped his fingers and looked over her shoulder. Her mother wasn't saying anything. She was rubbing her wrist, making a fist, then stretching her hand. 

* * *

"What are you going to do?" Selina's tone was hesitant, and he could guess why, with the parallels involved. 

"What I need to do." It was unfortunate. A pair of Gordon's lieutenants had come in, questioning witnesses involved in a recent arson. Witnesses yielded leads, resulting in search warrants. One of his own employees turned out to be a former gang member. That was unrelated to the current arson, but he would need to speak with the head of Human Resources for having missed such a simple check. 

"But he wasn't involved in the case - " 

"It doesn't matter. He lied and covered up past crimes. I need to maintain a good image, and that means I can't retain former felons." Bruce finished knotting his tie and reached for a suit jacket. 

"I thought you said he had a family." He noted her glance at a photograph of them and Helena, on the side-table. 

"I guess he should have thought things through more carefully." He waited for another reproach from Selina, but she kept her head down. "I'm sorry. I wish it could be different, if only for his family's sake. This is work. I need to..." Bruce waved a hand in dismissal. She must understand. He snorted, realizing what he had started to explain. As if he were the one required to justify the legal system. 

"I wasn't arguing." Selina seemed to drop the subject, but then added softly, "It's important to keep a clear division between work and family." 

"No other way about it." 

She smiled pleasantly. "Of course not." 

She followed Bruce as he left the master suite, and watched with her hands on the railing post, as he descending the stairs. The massive front doors echoed hollowly, as they shut.


End file.
